Time to confess: tell us about a time when you used a word whose meaning you didn’t actually know (or were very wrong about, in retrospect).
The last time I used a word that I didn’t know how to pronounce, but whose meaning I understood just fine, was “epitome.”I had read it in context many time and understood its meaning. But how to say it out loud? I got it wrong.
Everyone laughed. I never forgot. I was 9-years-old.
I don’t now and never have used words when I don’t know what they mean. I look them up. That one little moment of humiliation was sufficient for a lifetime. I always wince with pain when I hear people misusing words. It used to require one find a dictionary to look it up — or at least ask someone “What does “phenomenology” mean?
These days, you just Google it. Some words, like “epistemology” and “cosmology” (as opposed to “cosmetology”) require a little more than a single sentence explanation. I avoid using them unless that’s what the post is about. Unless you are trying to lose your audience, find more easily recognized words.
It doesn’t make anyone look smarter to misuse 20 dollar words when a 5 dollar word will do the job nicely.
Revelation #3: It’s all in the wording.
You need the right lingo to dazzle your audience. Big words (4 or more syllables) used in the right context can showcase your education and intelligence. People will make little cooing sounds to show their admiration.
Big words enhance your likelihood of getting a management position. You can write important books. Have a blog like me (and I know you want to be just like me). Big words can take you a long way if you are skilled at deploying them.
Note: Make sure you know how to pronounce them. Mispronouncing big words will cause unexpected laughter … not good unless you are aiming for a stand-up comedy career.
Let’s start with epistemology. This is an excellent catch-all word you can drop into any conversation. Most people will have no idea what you are talking about but will be too embarrassed to admit it. On the off-chance you encounter someone who actually recognizes the word, you can use this handy-dandy definition from the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, the philosopher’s convenient source for everything:
Defined narrowly, epistemology is the study of knowledge and justified belief. As the study of knowledge, epistemology is concerned with the following questions: What are the necessary and sufficient conditions of knowledge? What are its sources? What is its structure, and what are its limits?
I bet you still have no idea what it means. The awesome truth is that epistemology doesn’t mean anything because it means everything.
Anything that means everything means nothing. Equally, when something claims to do everything, it has no actual use. This applies to people, concepts, and kitchen appliances. In practical terms, everything and nothing are identical. (Remember infinite sets from college math? It’s like that.)
On to phenomenology. When I was studying religion in college, phenomenology was a way to prove the existence of God. Phenomenologically speaking, all human experience is proof of God. Except the same reasoning can prove there is no God. This is the joy of phenomenology.
Phenomenology can help you prove all things are one thing, all things are God. You are God. I am God. I am a warm cup of tea and you are a daffodil. If this doesn’t clarify it for you, the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy offers further elucidation:
Phenomenology is the study of structures of consciousness as experienced from the first-person point of view. The central structure of an experience is its intentionality, its being directed toward something, as it is an experience of or about some object.
In other words, you can use any and all human experience, your experience and anyone else’s, to prove whatever you want. Phenomenology is fundamental to all belief systems: religion, politics, and Fox News. Lots of people believe in religion, politics and Fox News, so maybe they will believe in you too.
Some writers’ names have becomes adjectives: Kafkaesque, marxist, Orwellian, sadistic. If your name (or nickname, or blog name) were to become an adjective, what would it mean?
Lucky me. Smart me. Far-seeing me. Pat, pat on my back, back!
When I picked my blog name, it already meant something, which is “to find something for which one is not looking.” A serendipitous discovery is pretty much a happy accident.
The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. “A fortunate stroke of serendipity”. Synonyms: (happy) chance, (happy) accident, fluke.
I suppose you could talk about my pithy, ironic commentary as Marilyn-isms, but there are more than enough existing words to describe pithiness, irony and wit without making up a new one.
Let’s just stick with serendipity. It’s a good word, a happy word. When chance takes you someplace pleasant and surprising, if you unexpectedly happen upon something that tickles your fancy, think of me.
Serendipity strikes again!
A Form of Flattery - Write a post about any topic you want, but in the style of an author or a blogger you admire.
It’s hard to get up a real head of enthusiasm on a day when you doubt the post will ever actually show up on The Master Post. WordPress, please bring back regular vanilla ping-backs. The technology is tried and true. It’s been working for more than 20 years and clearly, whatever you are doing has, as my granddaughter says, “issues.”
Write in someone else’s style? To be honest, most of us don’t have styles all that distinctive. I certainly don’t or if I do, I’d appreciate someone explaining to me exactly what that might be. I write the way I talk, but with a lot more typos. I hope my speech typos are undetectable. I’d hate to think everyone actually sees my words flying through the air, misspelled and mispronounced. Egads.
So … just in case the WordPress people get the Daily Prompt back on line and connect us all up to form the much-touted “family” — I think I speak for many of us — and if I don’t, I definitely speak for myself — when I say “Which ‘other bloggers’ style? Who has such a distinctive presentation that I could flatteringly imitate it? Maybe I am suffering a caffeine deficiency that I need to quickly remedy?
I suppose I could get ambitious and pretend I’m William Faulkner or maybe Edgar Allen Poe … but it’s Sunday. Sleepy peaceful quiet Sunday. I will get myself another cup of coffee. Yes, I think so. Uh huh.
And, for my finale, I’ll stick with my style (whatever it may be). May your day be peaceful and include sunshine and lots of coffee.
For this week’s challenge, share a photo with letters — no matter the alphabet. As you look through your lens, think about how your image might convey something bigger: a snapshot of how we communicate with one another, even if we don’t speak the same language.
My mother said it all the time. It was a favorite expressions. I never thought much about it. It was meant to comfort me when I was unhappy, when something had gone badly. It never occurred to me the expression was more than what a mother says when consoling a child.
It turns out the expression has a long and ancient history.
The phrase seems to have originated in the writings of the medieval Persian Sufi poets, and is often attached to a fable of a great king who is humbled by the simple words. Some versions of the fable, beginning with that of Attar of Nishapur, add the detail that the phrase is inscribed on a ring, which has the ability to make the happy man sad and the sad man happy.
Jewish folklore often describes Solomon as giving or receiving the phrase. The adage and associated fable were popular in the first half of the 19th century, appearing in a collection of tales by the English poet Edward Fitzgerald and also used by Abraham Lincoln in a speech before he became President.
“Sticks and stones can break my bones, but names can never hurt me.”
It’s an old childhood chant, a miserably inadequate defense against bullies and bigots when one is small and powerless. It was oft-repeated, not only by we, the little victims, but by parents, teachers and other wise counselors. It was supposed to comfort us.
It didn’t because we all knew for a certainty it was untrue.
Names can and do hurt. The hurt caused by a cruel name goes deeper than any mere cut or bruise to the body. Psyches heal but slowly. Sometimes they never heal.
Will you tell me those names don’t hurt?
Of course they hurt. They hurt plenty and are intended to. They carry with them the pain and vituperation of generations of haters. I’m almost afraid to put them in writing. They are so ugly, so wrong they may cause my monitor to short-circuit.
It has been argued — here on WordPress by supposedly respected bloggers — that if a member of a minority hurts you, it gives you the right to strike back any way you can. I disagree with all my heart. Racial and ethnic epithets are never okay, not under any circumstances. To say it is justified by what “they did” just makes you a partner in crime. And it is a crime.
Is it the word itself or its intent that hurts so much? Both I think, plus the history such words carry. A hate word carries the power of all those who ever used it. Each time these words are used, their power is renewed, their devastating effects reinforced.
Time to stop forgiving the hate-spewers. Paula Deen’s and Mel Gibson’s (as well-known examples — they are far from alone) hate-filled monologues were no slips of the tongue, nor were they caused by drugs or drink. You could fill me with all the drugs and booze in the world and you’d never hear that from me. It’s not in me.
Those words are never an accident. NO ONE uses these or words to this effect who does not have a heart full of hate. Don’t let them off the hook. They know exactly what they are saying.
Excuses are not repentance. Hate and bigotry do not deserve a second chance.
- From Russia: with Hope. | Abstractions of Life
- THE HASTY TRADITION | Hastywords
- Rice Insults My Intelligence | Bumblepuppies
- Just Call Me | ripplesblog
- Daily Prompt: What’s in a Name | The Cheese Whines
- Roles and Identities | Kingdom of Sharks
- Word Press Weekly Writing Challenge: the Power of Names | Phylor’s Blog
- The Power of a Name | Welcome, somthing drink?
- What’s in a Name? | Sam’s Online Journal
- What’s In A Name? | The Eclectic Poet
- The moniker of Monica | Minnesota Transplant
- NOT IN OUR NAME | Unload and Unwind
- Contrary, Bitter, Rebellious and Loved | Mary J Melange
- Purely Me | Scraps of Paper
- Weekly Writing Challege: Power of Names | Simply about Life
- A Few of My Favorite Things…. | Coffee Crumbs
- Names | Speaking Voiceless
- Weekly Writing Challenge: Power of Names | lifebeinggirly
- Writing Prompt: The Power of Names | tamiesrealm
- On Names… | Tas’und’eash
- How Osama Bin Laden And My Parents Got Together And Complicated My Life | Babbleogue
- The Lame Name Shame Blame Game! | Once Upon Your Prime. . .
- “Found in Translation” | Cosmic Heroism
What’s with the 1337 thing? WordPress uses it for a lot of things, for the top number in posts, in follows. I figured it must have some kind of historic significance to them, like the amount of money they had when they started the company, or maybe a time or maybe map coördinates.
I looked it up. Whatever did we do before we had Google? Of course, before the internet, we would not be looking it up because this is the straight stuff: pure internet/gamer/hacker gibberish — er, slang. A bizarre distortion of language and a techno-geek in-joke.
1337 means LEET, a twisted version of the word “élite.” Which, over the years, has become internet slang for superior. Here’s the math: 1337 (1 – L, 3 – E, 7 – T) = LEET = ELITE.
This is supposed to be tres cool. Do you think it’s cool? I’m curious to hear what you think. I think it’s lame and annoying, but hey, I’m old. Definitely not one of the cool kids.
In fact, I’m not a kid at all.